Fat Funny Famous

Chapter 10

"Yah!" I scream as I leap out of the back of the van, arms raised Matrix-style. I hang in the air for a moment, tempted to grin. I'm in the zone, filming an action scene as Trish; I've had to beg, plead, sign waivers and threaten to go on a Twitter tirade, but the production company has finally signed off on me doing a couple of my own stunts.

We're in a green screen studio; around me, the vibrant verdant walls hang in soaring sheets from the elevated ceiling. Here, I might look like a silly blonde girl jumping from a stationary van into a crash mat, but with a little movie magic in post-production, it will look like I'm launching myself out of a moving vehicle on a twisting, cliff-side road.

I land on the mat, rolling the way the stunt master showed me how. The air pushes out of my lungs as my shoulder hits the padding just right, and I execute a perfect roll before pushing to my feet. "How does it look?" I ask breathlessly.

We're filming in super slow motion for maximum drama. Behind the camera, Olivia frowns as she watches the playback, her braids falling forward around her face. "I think... I think we're good. You look more thrilled than terrified, but I think it works for Trish."

"Whoops," I say, straightening my clothes. Today, they've got me in a duplicate of the outfit Trish was wearing the day she was kidnapped; white yoga pants that skim the curves of my butt and a tiny tank in baby blue. The white and blue fashion combo went viral after the security footage of Trish staggering into a small town police station was leaked on the internet. It's the most watched clip on YouTube: a bloodied and beaten blonde girl slamming both hands on the counter of the police and yelling, "Oi! Some Euro-trash arseholes just tried to bloody murder me!"

We've already filmed that scene (and it was just as much fun as I'd hoped). Now, we've gone back in time to capture how Trish managed to outsmart her captors. From all reports, it was a combination of luck and ingenuity; after being bound and tossed into a van while out on a run, she managed to headbutt the guard in the back with her. Being a flexible surfie chick, she contorted herself and brought her arms from behind her back, under her feet and in front of her body. She used her bare feet to retrieve the keys from the unconscious guard's pockets, unlocked her cuffs, then jumped out of the moving vehicle.

From this point, reliable reports get a little patchy. The van was found abandoned, the guard in the back arrested while still passed out, and a second man with no ID was found dead at the bottom of the cliff nearby. We're taking some artistic licence; even though they were bad guys, no one wants to insinuate a member of one of the oldest royal families in the world was responsible for deliberately killing someone, even if they were totally a bad guy. So, we're staging it as a Disney-style villain death: accidental falling.

Olivia points her finger to the ceiling and circles it. "Okay, team! Let's set up for the final fight scene."

Everything on a set always takes longer than it feels like it should. It's a fundamental truth in movie making that most of the time, you're paid to stand around. I like to think of it as being paid to be ready; I spend the time with the stunt master, running through the well-choreographed moves with the guy playing my other captor.

When the lights are set, the sound guy is happy, and continuity have made their notes, Olivia finally says, "Right – Mila, remember that Trish is not a trained fighter. You're just a regular surfie chick who's had a couple of self-defence lessons in high school. These guys are experienced assassins. You're terrified, but you've got something to fight for: your love."

I nod, and a moment of raw emotion swells in my chest. I understand Trish. Jesus, I basically am Trish at this point; young, dumb, falling in love with a guy light-years different to her.